


Winterhawk Drabbles

by Spidergwenstefani



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Holidays, Kinda, M/M, One Shot Collection, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spidergwenstefani/pseuds/Spidergwenstefani
Summary: A collection of shorter fics from my tumblr.Chapter One: First KissChapter Two: Zombies!Chapter Three: Holidays <3





	1. The Big Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon on Tumblr who said: Can I get uhhhHHHHHHHHH first kiss? :3 PS You’re fantastic keep it up sweetie :)

Bucky’s never been as bad as Steve with the staring. Maybe it’s the bits of information he kept from his time as the Soldier, or maybe he’s just never been quite as starry-eyed as Steve in the first place. Steve stares at every little thing as he walks down a Brooklyn street, his neck whipping around so fast Bucky would worry it might break if the serum hadn’t beefed it up so much. Sure, _some_ things catch his eye. He’s not gonna jump at a bicycle bell or get drawn in by flickering neon, but maybe gaudy storefronts or flashy movie billboards give him pause every once in a while.

“Ugh,” Clint says, and Bucky’s eyes snap to his face. The lights of the street and the building windows are doing funny things to his face, comically exaggerating the way his nose is all scrunched up.

“Bad movie?” Bucky asks, because Clint seems to have followed his gaze to the movie billboard. The picture seems innocuous enough. Two blandly pretty actors wrapped in a passionate embrace while a vivid sunset plays out behind them. It’s not even a particularly raunchy kiss, most of the details lost to backlighting. Bucky can’t quite figure out what warrants Clint’s distasteful look.

“Never seen it,” Clint says, waving away the question and turning the corner. The billboard stays in view over crumbling rooftops. Clint’s favorite pizza places are always in the older parts of town, where the buildings are shorter and the streets are grimier.

“Don’t like the actors, then?” Bucky presses, because Clint’s probably the one thing about the twenty-first century that’s hardest to figure out. Or maybe not hardest, Bucky thinks as Clint pushes open the pizza place door with a chime. Clint makes a hell of a lot more sense than Tony Stark ever will. But between the time they’ve been spending on missions and their late-night quests for greasy take-out, Bucky’s found himself _wanting_ to figure Clint out.

“They’re probably fine. I don’t keep up with new movies too well anyways.”

Bucky frowns as they shuffle through the line. It’s one of those restaurants built straight front to back, where the pizza sits wafting behind glass and you order by the slice. Clint orders for both of them, because even if Bucky could remember shit like pizza preferences, most of the stuff he ate in the thirties was boiled and bland. The tables are shoved in as more of an afterthought, so they take their food back to the streets, holding the paper plates like taco shells.

“What’s the matter with it?” Bucky asks as the billboard drifts into view again. Clint rolls his eyes as he takes a bite of pepperoni.

“It’s the kiss,” he says, his mouth still full. It should be gross, but Bucky just feels his heart flutter. He takes a bite out of his slice to keep from biting his lip.

“The kiss?” Bucky prompts, because Clint’s fallen silent again. He huffs, wiping pizza grease on the side of his jeans.

“Yeah, I dunno.” Clint gives a one-shouldered shrug, staring down at his shoes. The lamplight on this street is particularly yellow, and Clint’s glowing a little golden in the light of it. Bucky can’t help but think purple and gold look particularly nice together. “Movies always do that shit. The Big Kiss, with fireworks and grand music. Everything’s magical and happy, and then the credits roll.”

“You don’t like The Big Kiss?” Bucky asks, stuffing his mouth full of crust in an attempt to muffle how heartbroken he sounds. He’s always had Clint pegged as a romantic. He’s daydreamed about a hundred Big Kisses up himself in the last few months.

“It’s- no. I mean, the kiss is fine. It’s just that nothing comes _after_ the kiss.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow as he swallows the last of his pizza, and Clint’s face flushes under the lamplight.

“I mean- I don’t mean like _that_. It’s just- nerve-wracking, I guess. They finally get together, or reunited, or whatever. They kiss, and it’s great, and then the screen’s just black. You have to sit there after this grand old kiss, and just think _that’s it?_ ”

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says. Clint takes a bite out of his own slice and chews it thoughtfully, trying to put his thoughts in order. Bucky just lets them fall into easy silence. The billboard is still visible, far enough away that it feels like it’s following them.

“I guess I don’t think kisses are a good enough happy ending,” Clint says finally. They’re nearing the end of the street, and Bucky can hear louder traffic around the corner. The cooler lights of the main street are bleeding into their quiet little golden lane, and Bucky finds himself stopping short of the corner. He feels like he’s close to figuring out something important, and the city lights might just ruin it. Bucky fidgets with his paper plate, folding it into a triangle as he looks at Clint expectantly.

“I always thought that’s why they did all the shit with the lights and the music. So you knew it was a really spectacular one.”

“I’ve had some pretty spectacular kisses,” Clint says, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk. “Fireworks, music, the whole deal. Doesn’t mean a damn thing. You can have your fairytale kiss and still be out on the curb in a few months.”

“So you like epilogues, then? The Big Kiss and then a cut to the picket fence and the dog and the two kids?”

“I like _normal kisses_.” There’s a hint of frustration in Clint’s voice, like he can’t get his point across quite right. “You can’t start off with a Big Kiss like that. Then you’ve got nowhere to go. Normal kisses are _fine_. There’s nothing wrong with an honest kiss.”

“Honest?” Bucky frowns, because he’s not sure how a kiss can be _honest._ Clint groans in frustration, crumpling his pizza plate into a ball.

“Yeah. Honest. I don’t know how else to- I can’t-” He huffs in annoyance, and then Clint’s stepping forward, pulling Bucky closer with a hand on his shoulder. Bucky’s eyes slide shut as their lips meet. The kiss is gentle, and Clint hesitates like he’s going to pull back, but Bucky slides his left arm around his back and pulls him in closer. Clint tastes like pepperoni, and he steps on Bucky’s shoe as he stumbles forward. There’s a soft sound as Clint drops his balled up paper plate, and then his other hand is planted against Bucky’s face, his fingers pressed against the corner of Bucky’s jaw, no doubt smearing him with pizza grease.

It’s not a long kiss. Bucky lets Clint pull back first, so he can fully demonstrate his ‘normal kiss.’ Clint presses their foreheads together, and Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed looking at the soft smile on his lips.

“See,” Clint says, a little smugly. “That’s a normal kiss. It’s honest. That’s how I kiss you. That’s how I _will_ kiss you, if you let me.”

Bucky laughs softly, giddily. He runs his right hand through Clint’s hair and shifts just enough to press a kiss to his forehead. Maybe Clint isn’t so easy to figure out after all, but Bucky thinks he’s actually understanding it. He can see a road filled with more pizza-grease kisses, and, if he squints hard enough, that road just might lead to a picket fence. Pepperoni has never tasted so much like a promise.


	2. Where’s Duane Jones When You Need Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a dumb zombie AU I wrote up last minute as an excuse to post something on halloween and also to make too many references to Night of the Living Dead. I'm typing this summary at 11:59 so this will probably technically be posted on November 1 but just for the record I technically did write this on halloween sooo

The blond guy slams the door of Bucky’s cabin shut behind him, dead bolting it and throwing his body weight back against it before turning to yell at his friend.

“Bring the bookshelf over here. I’ll help him board up the windows.” Something thuds against the outside of the door, and Bucky hears a low moan. It sounds like the drunk guy from town, or the creature he hit with his truck.

“Pull up some floorboards,” the second guy says as he gives Bucky’s bookshelf a full-body shove. A few paperbacks flop onto the ground, and Bucky would yell at him if he wasn’t so goddamn confused, standing in the middle of his living room while the two strangers aggressively redecorate.

“Yeah, I was gonna,” the blond guy says, rolling his eyes. He hops away from the door as soon as his friend gets the bookshelf in front of it, pulling something out of his pocket and yanking back the rug. “Quit trying to be Ben. _I’m_ Ben this time.” He flips open the thing in his hand - a pocket knife - and wedges it between the floorboards. There’s a protesting creak as he starts to pry the first one loose.

“Hey, fuck you. I’m _always_ Ben,” his friend snaps back, getting the bookshelf in place and going for the writing desk. “You can’t claim Duane Jones for yourself. He’s like, the best Black horror hero. You can have Simon Pegg.”

“Okay,” the blond guy chuckles, entirely too upbeat about the whole situation, “But if you’re Ben, who’s Barbara? Who’s the damsel in distress? Who’s-” The guy freezes, looking down at the bandage around his hand. “Oh, fuck me. Am _I_ Barbara?”

“ _Will somebody please tell me what the fuck is happening?_ ” Bucky finally manages, startling the two guys into silence. They stare at him for a moment, the only sounds in the room from the thuds and moans outside. Then, they lock eyes, both breaking into wide smiles.

“He’s Barbara,” they say in unison, and Bucky’s not sure if they’re talking in code or if this is just another incredibly annoying pop culture reference he missed out on.

“Who the hell is Barbara?” he snaps, still feeling dumb standing in the middle of his own house while god-knows-what scratches at his walls. “No, never mind. What the hell are those _things?_ ”

“Zombies,” says the guy dragging Bucky’s writing desk in front of the window.

“Ghouls,” the other guy adds, cheerily popping Bucky’s floorboards up one by one. “You got any nails? Hammer?”

“Zombies aren’t real,” Bucky says flatly. The guy by the window snorts.

“It’s a worldwide epidemic. Where’ve you been for the last few months?”

“Here,” Bucky says, staring as the blond guy pokes at one of the nails still stuck in a floorboard, snapping his hand back as it pricks his finger. “I don’t go into town much.”

“You’re lucky we were there when you decided to venture out,” says the guy on the floor. He beams at Bucky. “Hawkeye and Falcon, heroes of the zombie apocalypse.”

There’s a crunch from the far wall that makes them all jump, and Bucky winces. One of the zo- _things_ must be plowing its way through the siding.

“Are they- will they actually eat us?”

“No doubt,” the Black guy says, crossing the room to help his friend with the floorboards. “If we make a barricade over weak spots, it’ll buy us enough time to figure out an escape plan.”

Another crunch comes from the far wall, and the blond guy looks at Bucky with an entirely inappropriate grin, putting on a creepy voice.

“ _They’re coming for you, Barbara._ ”

“I have guns in the basement,” Bucky blurts out, ignoring what he’s pretty sure is a movie reference. “Like, a lot of guns.” The blond guy looks at him like he’s twelve and Bucky just announced that Christmas is coming early. His friend just squints at him.

“Why do you have guns?”

“They’re mostly hunting rifles, but I have a few handguns too.”

The Black guy scratches his chin for a moment, exchanging a look with his friend, whose face is still pure glee. He sighs and then shrugs.

“Alright. Clint, you go with him to the basement. I’ll work on the windows while you guys stock up.”

“There’s a hammer and a box of nails under the kitchen sink,” Bucky says as he heads for the basement door, the blond guy, Clint, jumping up to follow him. As he unbolts the door, he realizes how much he’s itching to get a gun in his hand.

“So, you really missed the whole zombie outbreak?”

“I said I don’t go out much,” Bucky answers, flipping the light switch before heading down the stairs. The overheads flicker on, and Clint makes a noise of giddy excitement.

“Man, if there wasn’t an apocalypse going on, I’d be so weirded out right now.” Clint vaults over the stair rail, heading straight for the far wall where Bucky keeps his hunting rifles. He stares appraisingly at the Winchester, and Bucky feels weirdly thankful that he cleaned all of his guns out just yesterday.

“Take what you like, just leave my SIGs alone,” Bucky says, grabbing both handguns from their own places on the wall. Clint makes an affirmative hum, taking down the Winchester with a reverence that Bucky wouldn’t have expected from a guy that was prying his floorboards up just five minutes ago. Bucky checks the safety on his own guns, watching Clint out of the corner of his eye. “Do headshots really kill them?” Clint looks up from the rifle then, raising an amused eyebrow.

“There’s not much a headshot won’t kill,” he says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Well fucking excuse me for wanting to get as much information as I can. They’re already breaking all known laws of science just by walking around.”

“Nah, it’s plenty scientific,” Clint says, grabbing some bullets from the shelves below. “They’re full of bacteria. Or, um. Maybe it’s a virus. I think virus, actually.” He starts to load up the rifle, grunting in frustration as his bandage catches. Clint pulls it off, and Bucky’s heart stops at the shiny red bite mark stamped into his hand. “I didn’t pay attention, really. Bruce knows all about it. He can explain it to you when we get back to base. He’s been testing out-”

“Is it contagious?” Bucky cuts him off, and Clint looks up for a second, confused, before following Bucky’s eyes to his hand.

“Oh, this? No, this isn’t- Sam and I crossed paths with a dog on the way in. The poor guy was all scratched up, and apparently all the jerky rations in the world couldn’t make me seem friendly enough to let near the wound on his back leg. Might’ve gotten rabies for my trouble, but I think he’ll pull through alright.” Clint smiles down at his wound like it’s a happy memory. Bucky blinks.

“You should really get that checked out.”

“Yeah,” Clint says dopily. “Shit. Worth it, though. I haven’t pet a dog in like. _Fuck_. Too long.” He blinks, looking back up at Bucky. “But no, the zombie virus doesn’t spread like in the movies.” He rolls his sleeve up higher, and even from across the room, Bucky can see his arm is littered with faded bite marks. “Most people have immune systems strong enough to fight it off. That’s why the infection really only spreads in the dead.”

“So, no gory amputations?”

“Nah. Didn’t stop some people, though. When I saw your arm in town, I thought you might be one of those poor idiots who trusted their knowledge of slasher films more than the people at the Urgent Care.”

“Did that happen?”

Clint just scrunches up his nose in answer, heading back up the stairs. He pauses, turning around to smile at Bucky. It’s warmer than before, and the soft look makes Bucky stomach flutter in a way that’s entirely inappropriate to the current situation.

“I think I changed my mind,” Clint says, not elaborating until Bucky raises a prompting eyebrow at him. “You’re better than Barbara. More useful, a lot cooler.” Bucky gives him a small grin, and Clint’s smile grows by miles. “Way hotter, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I will gift you my first born in exchange for comments and kudos. Might fuck around and make this a full AU. lmk what you think ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Let it Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a longer holiday fic in the works but I couldn't let Hanukkah go by without slipping in a mention about how I always and forever headcanon Bucky Barnes as Jewish.

Clint stares at the sprig of mistletoe dangling ominously from the elevator ceiling and reminds himself never to underestimate Tony Stark again.

It’s the fourth of December. The _fourth._ He usually gives the Tower a wide berth during the holiday season, but he always figured the madness wouldn’t start until the tenth, at the earliest.

The Tower lobby had more Christmas trees than Clint’s maybe ever seen in his life, and there’s a treacherous amount of mistletoe hanging around. Clint is only here to pick up his damned arrows from the lab, but he’s going to have to be on high fucking alert if he wants to avoid getting caught in a doorway with any of his teammates. Clint shudders a little at the thought of having to kiss Thor or, oh god, _Tony_. He likes his teammates well enough, but Clint would prefer a more typical team bonding exercise than swapping spit while Stark snapped pictures for future blackmail.

The elevator doors slide open, their usual _ping_ replaced with a half-hearted “ho ho ho” from Jarvis.

“Um,” Clint says, because he definitely requested to be taken to Tony’s lab, and not the communal floor.

“My apologies, Mr. Barton,” Jarvis says, and he actually does sound sorry. “I’m afraid Mr. Stark insisted you come to this floor first. The other Avengers are enjoying some holiday cookies, and your presence was requested.”

“ _Demanded,_ ” Tony shouts from somewhere on the floor. He sounds like he’s been getting into the eggnog. “C’mon, Barton! Barnes finally agreed to watch _Die Hard_ with us.”

Clint freezes with one foot outside the elevator because Bucky Barnes is not on his list of people he’d like to run into today. He was kind of hoping to get through the whole month without seeing him, actually.

Nine months out of the year, Bucky Barnes is one of Clint’s favorite people on the team. He’s sassy, violent, and nihilistic, which are Clint’s three basic requirements for a best friend. They’ve bonded over barely-civil shooting contests and 3 am whispers about what it’s like to lose control over your own mind. Seeing warm smiles and angry flashes in Bucky’s eyes have kind of become the highlight of Clint’s days.

Except.

Except when the wind starts to get a little sharper, and the clouds get grey and cold, the heat in Bucky’s eyes disappears like a puff of breath in the winter air. He becomes blank, empty, and the cold wipes the smile from his face like the fingers of frost creeping across the window panes.

Yeah, Clint feels a little shitty about avoiding him, but it’s not like Bucky ever wants him around in winter anyway. Bucky’s got too much swirling around in his own head, and all Clint has to offer are shitty puns and inappropriate jokes. He’s always been the laugh-to-keep-from-crying type, and in winter he starts to feel more like some kind of fly buzzing in Bucky’s ears than any sort of real friend.

Also, Clint spent most of October with his stomach doing flips every time Bucky smiled at him or bumped their shoulders together, and he’s a little afraid of feeling those warm fuzzies fade away the first time Bucky stares at him with icy eyes. He’s not sure he can keep fooling himself that Bucky’s interested in him when all it takes is a chill wind to blow the heat of a moment away.

But the communal floor doesn’t have the chill Clint was bracing for.

There’s a log fire crackling in the hearth, and Clint isn’t sure how or when Tony managed to install three fireplaces on the floor, but it’s casting such a warm glow that he can’t exactly complain. The walls are pretty much covered in popcorn garlands and paper chains, and the floor has significantly more overstuffed armchairs than he remembers.

Thor is in the middle of a story about some kind of Asgardian reindeer, and Steve is laughing so hard he’s clutching at his ugly Christmas sweater. Natasha is smiling too, perched on the back of their couch and picking out bits of tinsel that Steve has gotten stuck in his hair. Wanda is on the floor by the fire, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, the rest of her dwarfed by a Hanukkah sweater. She has her feet wedged under Vision’s thigh, and Clint has to wonder if that does much to warm them. Tony and Sam have claimed a pair of armchairs, both holding glasses of eggnog and giggling over the Santa hat that keeps flopping into Tony’s eyes.

And then there’s Bucky.

Bucky, who’s curled up in the most overstuffed chair, bundled in the white-and-blue twin to Wanda’s Hanukkah sweater, snorting a laugh into his mug of cocoa as Thor’s reindeer story reaches its crescendo.

Clint freezes on the outside of their cozy little circle. He can’t take his eyes off Bucky’s smile, and there’s something warm blooming in his chest.

“Clint!” Wanda shouts, beams at him, waves him over. Bucky looks up then. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his smile is small, but compared to the snow blowing outside the window, it’s maybe the warmest thing Clint’s ever seen.

“I thought you didn’t like the holidays,” Bucky says, setting down his mug, standing up, walking over to Clint and carrying the warm glow of the fire with him.

“I thought you didn’t either,” Clint says, and the warmth in his chest has spread to his cheeks now. Bucky’s smile gets a little wider, a little brighter.

“I’m remembering. You?”

“I’m rethinking.”

“Mistletoe!” Tony shouts suddenly, tossing the bauble of his Santa hat back from his face and pointing up at the plant Clint and Bucky are standing under. Clint holds his breath, waits for the chill, but Bucky just laughs and leans in.

And Bucky only presses the kiss to his cheek, but Clint still feels like maybe he’s got more than an icicle’s chance in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are the greatest gifts of all (also I totally need to go through my inbox WHOOPS)  
> Find me on tumblr at spidergwenstefani if the site doesn't burn to the ground first :D

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts on tumblr! or just come talk to me bc I'm lonely!! Comments warm my heart and kudos feed my soul <3


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